A LOT OF WORK… & play too (Part 158p)
We sat and talked for
about twenty minutes and the more I talked the more I felt ‘violated’.
All I’d tried to do was be a good samaritan and ended up being suspected
of doing something wrong. Elle wanted to get supper started so I went
and changed clothes. I was not ‘good company' at supper and when I said I
was going to work on the racer she was all for it. Opening night was
Saturday and, even though we’d looked the car over after the one
practice we’d attended, Cliffy wanted every nut and bolt checked. I was
under the rear end when Cliffy, on a creeper, pulled up along side of
me. He’d noticed that I wasn’t really focusing and asked what was
bothering me. I really didn’t want to talk about it but since he
wouldn’t go away I told him about the drunk lady and the crash… and the
accusation that I’d taken something from the woman.
At this
point I need to give some background about Cliffy and his father and
brother. The father ran a service garage and both his sons worked there.
They did a little of everything including having a tow truck to go pick
up wrecked cars. There was always a wrecked car or two in the yard
waiting for the insurance companies to come and get them. So, as I told
him about my situation he motioned for me to come out from under the
car. When I did he took me outside to a wreck parked out by the road. I
had no idea why but I followed. Once at the car he showed me that the
car had run off the road and into a ditch and had come to a
quick, violent stop when it did. Then he told me what appeared to be a somewhat
similar story about personal goods going missing. The woman had some
small items on the front seat beside her and after the accident and
she’d been removed she asked if someone could find her things. Cliffy
said his father went into the car and found some but not all of them.
She was quite upset but didn’t make an accusation. The next morning,
Cliffy’s father made another inspection and found the missing items in
the passenger footwell up underneath the floor mats. As I was listening to him
my mind was going 60 miles per hour. Before I could utter a word he
asked me who towed the car away. I’d been inside the bank at the time so
I didn’t see which towing company did it. However, I pretty much knew I
could get the information from the police. I remember being somewhat
excited at the prospect of having a solution to the missing
handbag/purse.
Before leaving the garage we established our
working plan for Saturday afternoon and heading for the races. The other guys would load the car on the hauler and then pick me up at my
house about 3pm. The women would come later in Cliffy's station wagon with the hibachis and food. With some of the pressure of the day relieved I started
getting excited about going to the races. The other guys were ‘flying high’ in
anticipation especially since we’d be only one of two cars using the new
’sticky’ tires. On that subject we were somewhat like ostriches sticking our
heads in the sand because we had no idea how many laps we could get out
of a set of tires. As of 10pm or so on that Wednesday night we didn’t
care.
I was at the police station at 8am the next morning. The
desk clerk was reluctant to give out any information about either of the
cars. I was about to leave when one of the cops going off duty stopped
by and asked why I wanted to know. I explained to him my situation and
my thoughts about searching the car. Much to my surprise, he offered to
go with me. I suppose I could have found it on my own since there were
really only two towing companies in town but I was glad he was with me.
On our way I told him about Cliffy’s father and what he’d said. He asked
if it was the same Cliff who owned race cars and had raced them at the local track. When I told him it was we
‘bonded’ right then and there. I told him I was a partner with the
man’s son in a modified class race car that would be racing on Saturday
night. He was disappointed that we wouldn’t be racing at the local track
but said he’d try to get to the races to take a look at it.
The car we
were looking for was right out in front of the big barn that served as
the office for the junk yard. I’d only seen the two crashed cars joined
together at the entrance to the bank parking lot and was somewhat taken aback by how far the other car had
penetrated the driver’s door of the drunk lady. The cop got out and went
right to the passenger door and opened it. I stood behind him as he
started reaching around on the floor and up under the dash and within seconds he pulled out a
leather purse/handbag. I wanted to let out a big yell but stifled it. I
remember my knees being weak as he opened it to look inside. Bret had
told me the woman’s name so when the cop read the name on the ID I knew I
was home free. We chatted for a minute and he surmised that the bag
being leather and being on leather seats, went sliding forward with the
sudden stop the car made. He agreed to take it back to the police
station and write the report.
As soon as I got to my desk I
called Elle. I told her to “find a home for the kids” for the night
because I was taking her out to dinner to celebrate. I explained
everything from Cliffy’s involvement from the night before right up to the cop
and I going to the wreck and finding the missing item. I could hear her
voice pick up as well and as she hung up the phone told me “not to
tarry”. I had a good idea what she was alluding to and had no intention
of ‘tarrying’. Bret could see that I was ‘hyper’ and asked why. I’d
decided not to say much, if anything, about the whole incident and
wasn’t going to do it then. I told him that it was just that it was a
glorious day, smiled and then tried to get to work on finding a blanket
supplier.
To be continued…
3 comments:
Happy that ended well. A false accusation can follow someone forever and I never met a cop without a long memory.
When I read the post about the accident and the missing purse I was thinking it might have ended up under the front seat or someplace. It sure worked out well, going to work on the car, then telling Cliffy, etc. I felt happy just reading your words, so I can imagine how happy you must have felt!
Bad
OB... I managed to escape that. The cop who went with me and found the purse made sure of that. He ended up being a friend due to his interest in racing...
BS... Happy doesn't describe it. Even though I knew I'd done nothing wrong it didn't stop my mind from going through a whole bunch of "what ifs", and they weren't pretty...
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